Today we followed another tributary of the Ottauquechee from near its headwaters near Plymouth all the way to the larger stream. Broad Brook and Rt. 100A weave together, both flowing down into the river valley. Driving north on Rt. 100, we turned right on to 100A and climbed out of the Black River watershed up a steep hill and, crossing the divide, re-entered the Ottauquechee region.
Following Rt. 4 back to Woodstock, with the river on the right, the manic nature of the ice artist was on full display. Narrow serpentine patches of moving water appeared and disappeared among and underneath infinite variations of edging, striations, shades of grey, glints of sun, slashes of white, shadows of trees, windrows of snow.
At about mid-morning today, from the bridge, all that wildness upstream had slowed to stillness, with a single set of delicate tracks crossing from one bank to the other. The other wild note being the staccato and parallel range of long tree shadows. A wild thought: God's bar code?
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